Stranded
by HeroesLostFan12
Summary: When Atlantic Flight 129 crashes on mysterious island, a group of people must band together to be rescued, and to also survive the many dangers the island has in store for them. Please read and review!


Episode 1

Pilot

**Author's Note:** Hi and welcome to my first Lost fanfic! I have a whole new cast of characters with brand new mysteries! Hope you enjoy! By the way, flashbacks are in _italics_ and sorry if my foreign language lines are horrible. I'll be using an online translator.

SPLASH! The water of the ocean splashed and caused great waves to splash against the sandy shore of the island. People were desperately trying to swim to land. All around them dead bodies floated among wreckage from Atlantic Flight 129.

A woman pushed herself up onto the sand. She was pretty, with long red hair and in perfect shape. She coughed up salt water that she had consumed and cried out, "Greg! Greg!" She coughed again. "GREG!"

Other people had made it to the island as well. There was complete chaos as many of them were badly injured and others were searching to see if their loved ones had survived. "Help…" somebody tried to scream as loud as they could. The woman with the red hair heard the voice and ran toward it. She found a boy, maybe just eleven or twelve in age. "Help…" he said again. The woman looked at the boy's body and saw that he had many deep cuts all over his it and was bleeding profusely.

"I'll help you," the woman said. "I'm a nurse." She ripped apart what was left of his coat and pressed it against the wounds to help stop the bleeding. "You'll be all right," she said as the boy finally fainted.

Meanwhile, people were still running around, having no idea what they should be doing. Most all of the survivors of the crash had made it to the shore and were helping anybody in need. An elderly man was on his knees, holding a cross. He was praying as hard as he could, but it seemed at that point that not even prayer could save them. The pilot was also running around, making sure everybody was all right.

This amount of chaos went on for hours, way into the night. The survivors of the crash could not make any tents or shelters, and fell asleep right on the sand. They would have to wait until morning before they could explore the jungle that lay before them.

The nurse woke up; she had slept next to the boy to make sure he was going to make it through the night. They were more inland than the others. He was still sound asleep, so she walked out to see what had to be done. The survivors were huddled in a group, with the pilot in the middle of them. The pilot was a French man, with black hair and mustache and a little on the chubby side. He spoke with a thick French accent. "I don't know where we are, exactly," he said. "There were communication and weather problems. We were driven off course, a search party won't know where to find us." There was a large panic in the crowd.

A man with very short hair, medium build, and very good looking stepped forward and said, "So there is no chance we will be saved?" The pilot shook his head and a woman broke down in tears. "My name is Matthew," the man said. "I believe we should explore the island. Any volunteers?"

People looked down, reluctant to go. "I'll go!" the nurse said. "My name is Chelsea. However, I need someone to look after this boy that I have been taking care of."

"You're good at helping people?" the pilot asked her.

"Yes, I'm a nurse." Chelsea replied.

"Then you are better off here," the pilot said. After a half an hour of fighting and bickering, two people finally agreed to go with Mathew to explore the island. The first was a gigantic and stern Russian man by the name of Igor. The second was teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen. The teenager was handsome and had short brown hair and was very muscular for his age. His name was Jason.

"Let's go," Matthew said. The three of them left and went to explore.

"_Now boarding Flight 192," a French woman's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Vol embarquant maintenant 192. The airport was the one of the finest in all of Paris. Atlantic Airlines was the number choice for all over seas passengers. 217 passengers showed their tickets to board Atlantic Flight 192. _

_Chelsea was one of those unlucky people that boarded the plane that day. After boarding the plane, she checked her ticket one last time. "18B, at least it's a window seat," she muttered to herself. She put her bag in the overhead compartment, only taking out her book and MP3 player to help entertain her while on the trip. It would be a long 4 ½ hours. Especially if he never decided to show up._

"_Passagers d'attention" the pilot's voice came. "We are about to take flight and are expected to arrive in Detroit, Michigan, USA at 12:30. Enjoy your flight." _

_Chelsea leaned back in her chair and put on her headphones when a man walked up and sat down next to her. He was in his late twenties with thick brown hair and dressed in a three piece suit and tie. "Well, Greg, I'm glad you were able to make it." Chelsea said. "I wouldn't want to leave you here in France!" She laughed._

"_I'm sorry," Greg said. "I had a very important call." His cell phone rang. He opened it and went to talk hit the TALK button, but felt Chelsea's hand. _

"_No work," she said._

"_But the honeymoon is over and I need to take these calls!" he said._

"_We're not back home yet, so we're still on our honeymoon! No work!"_

"_No work." He turned it off and put it back into his pocket. The first few hours of the flight were very enjoyable. Chelsea and Greg talked laughed, and even had a couple of drinks. A nice little, short and plump stewardess was serving them._

"_Can I get you anything else?" the stewardess asked in a sweet voice. _

"_No, we're fi…AH!" The plane began to shake violently and Chelsea almost fell out of her chair._

"_We must have hit a little turbulence," the stewardess said. The plane shook worse and began to nosedive. Those would be the last words that woman would ever say._

Chelsea walked over to the boy, he was still asleep. "Who are you?" she asked, well aware that he could not answer her.

Back in the middle of the beach, the pilot was trying to form a group of people to swim out to the body of the plane, which was still kind of floating, and try and collect anything they could find. Again, nobody was willing to volunteer. "All right then," the pilot said in his French accent. "I will choose people to go out. We need those supplies! You and you are coming with me." He pointed to a Spanish man and a French woman.

"Me Señor?" the Spanish man asked. "I cannot!"

"But you are," the pilot said, angrily. "Come on!" The pilot, French woman and Spanish man swam out toward the plane. Well, half of the plane since the tail section was separated as the plane was coming down. They climbed up into it, soaking wet. They were horrified at what they saw. The inside was totaled and dead bodies were still trapped in their seats. The French woman began to cry. The Spanish man went over to comfort her.

"Me llamo Ignacio," he said. "What is your name?"

The woman wiped her nose, "My name is Anne-Laure." The woman said it very slowly, not very confident with her English.

The pilot pushed right past her, "We should get looking for the supplies." They started taking bags out of the overhead compartments and dug through them, taking anything that would be of any use to them. The pilot went and got as many bottles of fresh water that he could carry and threw them into a bag.

All in all, they were only able to obtain the water, a couple bottles of medicine, clothing, books, and other toiletries. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. They started their long swim back.

Back at the camp, the boy's fever spiked, and Chelsea started shouting orders. She pointed to a blonde teenager and ordered her to get a cold, wet rag. "Me?" the girl asked.

"Yes you!" Chelsea yelled. "NOW!" The girl ran off to find the rag while Chelsea did everything in her power to calm the boy down.

Ten minutes later, the girl came running back, "This is all that I could find," she said.

"Thank-you…what was your name again?"

"Nicole."

"Thank-you Nicole." Chelsea put the rag on top of the boy's head and he seemed to calm and before they knew it the fever broke. Nicole walked away, thinking about how someone as pretty as she was should be stranded on this dumb island.

"_You did well, honey, really well," a middle aged man said to Nicole. "You just narrowly lost." _

"_I didn't just narrowly lose!" Nicole snapped back. "I came in third place! Miss Teen USA should come in better than first in a worldwide pageant!" Four people were boarding Atlantic Airlines 129, Nicole, Nicole's mom and dad, and Nicole's boyfriend, Jason._

"_There were over thirty girls there! You were in the top ten percent!" her dad said. He really wanted his little girl to be happy. _

"_Let's just find our seat," Nicole said moodily. They sat in their seats. Claire sat by the window next to Jason and wouldn't talk to anybody. _

"_I'm very proud of you," Jason said. "I'm glad that you are my girlfriend!" Nicole didn't care, she didn't win the pageant._

_A short, plump stewardess asked them if they needed anything and was told by Nicole to "bite her" and then went about telling her parents that she hated them. That would be the last words they heard from her._

_The plane started to shake and then went into a nosedive. The back of the plane broke off and her parents were sucked out of the back of hit. Nicole did not have any time to cry because the next thing she would remember is washing up on the shore of a mysterious island._

"So, what are we looking for exactly?" Jason asked as they walked down the beach.

"Anything, especially fresh water," Matthew replied. All of three of the explorers went back to silence as they trudged farther and farther from where the other survivors were. "We turn here," Matthew said as he headed straight into the jungle. Jason and Igor followed and had a hard navigating through the thick trees, but Matthew could easily find where to step.

"Right through here," he said. "We're only going a little farther before heading back." They continued walking, climbing over fallen trees and large boulders. It took a two or three hours, but they finally stumbled upon a small creek flowing with fresh water.

The three guys had not drunk since they started their expedition and so consumed as much water as they could. "I have to use the bathroom," Matthew said. "I'll be right over here." He walked away.

Jason and Igor sat down on some rocks to rest their sore legs. "So, uh," Jason said, thinking of anything to say to break to the silence. "What's up?" Igor stared at him and than looked back off into space. They sat there in silence until Matthew returned.

"Let's go," he said. He brought out some empty bottles. "But first let's fill these bottles I found on the beach to fill." They filled them, once again in silence and returned back to camp.

_Igor flashed his ticket and stepped onto the plane. "Oh, Mr. Ambassador, come right along to first class," a short, plump stewardess said to him. She led him through to the front of the plane. It was beautiful and all of the passengers had plenty of legroom. _

_Igor sat down and ordered a Scotch, while another woman came down to sit next to him. She was an older woman, maybe late forties, early fifties, with short brown hair with just a little bit of gray. "We're so glad that you will be able to make it to the US again," the woman said. "We hope that the good relationship between you and us can stay that way."_

_The chatted for a while, and just as she was about to get up and out of her chair, the plane shook violently as she went sprawling across the floor. "What happened," she asked, getting up and brushing off her dress._

"_I don't know," Igor said in his thick Russian accent. The plane shook again and the woman sprawled across the floor for the second time. However, the plane never stopped shaking. It turned downward and than finally crashed into the ocean below them._

The pilot, Ignacio, and Anne-Laure arrived back on the beach only a few minutes before Matthew, Jason, and Igor did. All of the survivors helped them supplies they were able to salvage from the plane.

Anne-Laure walked up to Chelsea and asked, "The boy, is he all right?"

"Yes, is he your son?"

The woman shook her head, "No, no, my son died in the crash. I saw his body floating in the water…"

"Would you like to see him just in case he is your s…" CRASH. CRUNCH. Chelsea didn't have time to finish her sentence. Every person on the beach turned to look toward the jungle. Some of the largest trees were being crushed by some…monster.

"Shit," the pilot swore.

**Coming Up in Episode 2:** Who is the boy, and will he survive? Without food, the remaining survivors must band together to venture into the jungle to pick fruit and hunt animals. But there is that monster. Will they survive? Plus, Anne-Laure will flashback to why she was on Flight 129. That is all coming up in Eat or Be Eaten!


End file.
